Chapter 4The Mistress Wore Stolen Couture

Before Alyssa could retort, the heavy glass doors swung open. Candace, the director of Human Resources, marched into the department, flanked by two corporate security guards.

Without asking a single question, she slammed an administrative leave notice onto my desk.

"Willa Sumner. Due to credible allegations of inappropriate conduct with executive management and severe reputational risk to the firm, your onboarding process is suspended immediately," Candace announced, her tone sharp and practiced. "Hand over your employee badge and your personal device, and vacate the premises."

I leaned back in my chair, meeting her gaze. "Under what authority are you demanding my personal phone?"

Candace's expression turned frigid. "As the head of Human Resources, I have the authority to investigate internal misconduct."

"Does a standard corporate inquiry grant you the right to seize an employee’s private property?"

"It prevents the ongoing dissemination of defamatory misinformation."

Before I could speak, my mother’s voice rang out from the speakerphone on my desk, clear and commanding:

"Candace."

Candace froze mid-sentence. Her fingers twitched against her clipboard, something in the timbre of that voice sparking an uncomfortable flicker of recognition. "Who is this?"

"You'll know in twenty minutes," Miriam said, without a trace of agitation. "Until I arrive at the executive suite, no one touches my daughter's phone, and no one alters her employment status."

The bullpen went quiet for a fraction of a second, followed immediately by a chorus of derisive snorts.

Alyssa glared down at my phone, letting out a sharp laugh. "Don't tell me, ma'am—are you about to claim you're Miriam Sumner, the founder and Chairman of the Board?"

From the speaker, my mother replied simply:

"I am."

Laughter rippled through the office like a bad sitcom track.

"She’s claiming to be the Chairman!"

"First the girl claims she's the CEO's daughter, now her mother claims to be the reclusive founder. A whole family of grifters!"

Alyssa unlocked her phone, opened Instagram Live, and flipped the camera toward my face.

"You all heard it," Alyssa spoke directly to the digital audience, her voice dripping with venom. "Not only did Willa Sumner sleep her way into designer threads, she actually hired an actress to pretend to be Chairman Sumner herself. Today, I'm exposing these frauds live for everyone to see."

I watched the viewer count surge—five hundred, two thousand, ten thousand. I didn't reach up to block the lens.

In my past life, their cameras had been the murder weapon.

In this life, I needed an audience.

A chime echoed as the express elevator opened. Martin, Russell’s long-serving senior executive assistant, strode briskly into the bullpen.

He marched straight to my cubicle, extending an open palm.

"Orders from Mr. Harmon," Martin said, his voice clipped and devoid of warmth. "Surrender your phone immediately. Furthermore, security has been instructed that anyone attempting to enter the premises claiming to be Chairman Sumner is to be barred at the turnstiles."

I looked up at him, feeling the final puzzle piece click into place.

Russell had known from the very beginning. He hadn't been caught unprepared. He was the architect of my execution.